"And are you satisfied? Can you get on?" "Satisfied ain't the word for it. I was never meant to go shouldering arms and making two legs of a long centipede, and crawling about. It's like getting back into real happiness. Waited table last night for the fust time. Didn't you see me?" "I? No." "I see you tootling away there on your floot, 'eavenly, but I couldn't catch your eye. 'Sides, I was strange there, and had to mind what I was about, 'tending to my master. It was a real treat!" "And so you think you'll get on with him?" "Get on with him! Why, I can do anything I like with him already! My word! they call red herrings sogers, and sogers red herrings, and he is a soft-roed un, and no mistake." "Lieutenant Lacey is a thorough gentleman, Jerry," cried Dick, warmly. "Every inch of him, Dick Smithson--mind, I'm a calling you that, Dick, but it's meant respectful--a thorough gent, every inch of him, and there's a good lot on him, too; but he is a bit slack-baked, you know. Why, if I liked, I could a'most gammon him into anything." "I trust you will prove as good a servant to him as you were to--" "Me," Dick was going to say, but he checked himself. "You trust me for that, Dick Smithson, I will. But, really, it's shameful the way he's been neglected. He come and ketched me last night sitting on the floor cross-legged, fine-drawing a hole in his dress-vest, and he burst out a-laughing, good-humoured like. "`Why, Brigley,' he says, `I didn't know you were a tailor.' "`More I am, sir,' I says; `but a man as pretends to valet a gent, and can't draw up a tear, or put on a button, ain't worth calling a servant, sir,' I says. "`I'm afraid my things have been very much neglected,' he says, and then he asked, `What boots are those in a row?' "`Some as I found in the closet, sir, all over mould.' "`But they're not fit to wear, are they?' "`Why not, sir?' I says. `Look here, sir, that chap as you've had here ought to be flogged; I never see a gent's fit-out and accoutrements in such a state.' "`They have been terribly neglected, my man,' he says, `and I hope you'll put 'em right.' "`You trust me, sir,' I says, `and they shall be done proper, but it'll take me weeks yet. Your linen's shameful.' "`Then I must get some new things.' "`What for, sir?' I says. `They're right enough. Leastwise, they will be. You leave 'em to me, sir.' "`I will, my man,' he says. "And then he sits down and sighs. Ever heard him sigh, sir?" "Yes, often, Jerry." "An' he can sigh! `Tired, sir?' I says. "`Yes, and low-spirited,' he says. "I didn't say no more, but puts away the vest as I'd finished, all but pressing it. Then I takes out my cloth, gets his pair of ivory-back brushes, just takes off his dress-jacket, and puts the cloth round his neck, sets him up a bit, and then I brushed his head for about ten minutes--you know my way, sir?" "Yes, Jerry; I recollect."